Mattie did not give way to any ebullition of tears; she was a girl with considerable self-command, and only betrayed her agitation by her whiter face. She did all that lay in her power to remedy the great error, leaving Harriet Wesden in charge of the shop whilst she ran down Great Suffolk Street and towards the Borough, hoping to overtake the robber. Straight to Kent Street went Mattie; thieves would be sure to make for Kent Street--all the years of her honest life faded away like a dream, and she ran at once to the house of a receiver of stolen goods, a house that she had known herself in the old guilty past. Her hand was on the latch of the door, when a policeman touched her on the arm, "Do you want anything here?" "I've been robbed of a large parcel--I thought they must have brought it here." "Why here?" "This is Simes's--this used to be Simes's--surely." "Yes, and it's Simes's still; but nobody's been here with a parcel. You haven't been and left nobody in Mr. Wesden's shop?" was his inelegant query. Mattie did not remark that the policeman knew her then; she was too excited by her loss. "Mr. Wesden's daughter's there." "Then you had better come round to the police-station, and state your loss, Miss." Mattie thought so too; she went to the police station, mentioned the facts of the robbery, the nature of the parcel stolen, &c, and then returned very grave and disconsolate to Great Suffolk Street, to find three customers waiting to be served, Harriet turning over drawer after drawer in search of the goods required, and one woman waiting for change, which Harriet, having mislaid her own purse, and found the till locked, was unable to give her. Mattie turned to business again, attended to the customers, and then re-entered the parlour. "It cannot be helped, and I must make the best of it," said Mattie; "I don't mind the loss it is to me, who'll pay for it out of my own earnings, as I do the vexation it will be to your father." "Leave it to me, Mattie," said Harriet; "when I go home this evening, I will tell him exactly how it occurred, and how it was not your fault but mine. And, Mattie, I intend to pay for it myself, and not have your hard earnings entrenched upon." "You're not in trust here," said Mattie, somewhat shortly; "if I don't pay for it, I shall be unhappy all my life." "Then it's over and done with, and I wouldn't fret about it," said Harriet, suddenly finding herself in the novel position of comforter. "I never fret--and I said that I would make the best of it," replied Mattie, placing her chair at the parlour door, half within the room and half in the shop; "and if I'm ever tricked again whilst I remain here, it's very odd to me."